


The Beauty and the Beast

by thenakednymph



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast, Beauty and the Beast AU, F/M, I COULDN'T HELP IT, The AU no one asked for, and now I have to write it, but I couldn't think of anything else, i hate everything, oh my gods someone shoot me this title is so cliche, this damn thing wouldn't leave me alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:16:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is so needlessly dramatic, I'm sorry. As a note going in, Dawn is the one getting married today, not Marianne. And she's getting married to Sunny, not Roland. I would never subject her to that. It's also only been loosely edited, so if you find any issues with flow or spelling please let me know.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Beauty and the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> This is so needlessly dramatic, I'm sorry. As a note going in, Dawn is the one getting married today, not Marianne. And she's getting married to Sunny, not Roland. I would never subject her to that. It's also only been loosely edited, so if you find any issues with flow or spelling please let me know.

 Marianne creeps down the stairs, one hand trailing against the moldering wood of the wall to keep her balance. The light is dim and yellow and the entire place smells of rot. The temperature continues to drop the further down she moves in the stump of the Dark Castle until the fine hair on her arms stands on end. She isn't sure if it's the chill or fear that makes it tremble.

Her feet are bare so she can move quietly, the shoes Dawn had manipulated her into wearing left behind in the forest. It's a miracle she's made it this far without being detected. She can catch the faintest whiff of her sister's perfume on the air, following it down into what she thinks is the dungeon. She hesitates to call out, afraid there will be guards, that she'll be caught, but she has to find her sister.

“Dawn?” she whispers. Blood pounds in Marianne's ears as she strains to hear in the silence, either for her sister or oncoming guards. All she can hear is the faint patter of water from somewhere ahead, soaking through the wood from an earlier rain.

Marianne creeps down a long hall, metal cages hanging overhead, each one empty and she's both relieved and disappointed by the sight.

“Dawn?” she tries again.

“Marianne?”

Relief and adrenaline hit her so hard at the sound of Dawn's voice, Marianne sways on her feet, her heart leaping into her throat. She nearly shouts, spinning around, trying to catch sight of Dawn in the darkness.

“Dawn,” she hisses. “Where are you?”

“I'm here. Marianne, I'm here!” Dawn cries, a door at the end of the hall rattling as she bangs her fists against it. Marianne half flies, half runs to the door, yanking it open and there she is, hands wrapped around the bars, tears on her cheeks. Marianne covers her sisters hands with her own, sagging against the bars. She slides to the floor, Dawn following her.

“What happened?” she asks, cupping Dawn's face, brushing away her tears.

“I'm sorry,” Dawn hiccups, shaking her head. “I'm so, so sorry.”

Marianne's hands wrap around her sister's white knuckled grip again, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she takes in Dawn's appearance. Her heart beats like a moth in her chest, battering its wings against the walls of her ribs, too big for her chest. The weight of it crushes her lungs and she can't breathe.

Dawn's wedding dress is stained and tattered around the bottom, the soft blue, almost white petals, stained a muddy grey. Her hair is tangled with twigs and leaves, some small abrasions scoring her cheeks from what was likely underbrush, but she appears otherwise unharmed.

“Who did this to you?” Marianne demands, her grip on Dawn's hands tightening until both their hands ache, but neither of them are willing to let go. Dawn's eyes are wide and frantic and she's shaking her head, on the verge of panic, stumbling over her words in her rush to get them out.

“No, Marianne you have to get out of here! He's-”

There's a vicious snarl from behind them, rending the silence and both women jump. Metal scrapes on stone and sparks fly through the air and wings beating through the air, interrupting them before Dawn can speak. Marianne spins around, still crouched down, her arms spread wide to protect her sister, her own dress looking tattered from her panicked flight through the dark forest.

“What are ye doin' here?” someone demands from the top of the stairs in a thick rasp and the gnashing of teeth. What light there is casts the figure in a dark silhouette, all prickly edges and hard lines, their body hunched but towering and Marianne feels a flush of fear. The voice burns with a deep rage the likes of which Marianne has never heard before and goosebumps ripple up her arms, lodging a knot in her throat. It takes her a moment to find her rage and swallow past it.

“What have you done to my sister?” She lets her own rage fill her voice, hoping it makes her sound braver than she feels, hopes it hides the trembling in her fists. She has to protect Dawn.

Marianne can't see it but she can hear the glare in the voice when the figure speaks, his words thickening with a heavy accent she can't recognize, the syllables drawn out and stretching oddly. “She is a trespasser here,” he all but shouts, his hands working angrily on his staff, sharp brow drawing down over his eyes. “As are you,” he growls.

Marianne rises from her crouch, her hands balling into fists as she squares her shoulders. “You let my sister go or I'll-”

“You'll what?” the voice snaps and she can hear the irritated flutter of wings again.

Marianne grinds her teeth and brandishes her sword, the dim light catching along the blade as it hisses free of its scabbard. She knows she must strike a less than threatening image, a lone fairy in a dress made from forget-me-nots wielding a sword at a figure she can barely even see in the dim light.

The figure snarls, leaping towards her and she sees that odd flash of light again, barely able to raise her sword in time before a heavy staff crashes into her blade, knocking it from her hands in a single blow. The force behind the attack leaves her reeling and she stumbles backwards, the shock vibrating up through her arms and her hands prickle with numbness. She cries out in shock more than pain, clutching her hands to her chest and gasping.

The figure rises up from where its landed, stretching to his full height and Marianne knows him to be the Bog King, master of The Dark Forest and her heart lurches into her throat at the sight of him. For a moment she forgets how to breathe, hands still clutched protectively in front of her. She forces herself to take a step forward, swallowing thickly. She glares up at him, puffing out her chest and forcing as much bravado into her voice as she can muster.

“Let my sister go.”

The Bog King bares his teeth at her, crowding her against the bars of Dawn's cell.

“She is mah prisoner,” the King snarls down at her and Marianne flinches. His lips curl in savage distaste before he dismisses her, obviously deciding she's not a threat to him and turns his back on her. “Now leave, before I do the same to you, little _princess_.” He spits the words at her and Marianne bristles, desperation driving her to shout.

“Take me instead!”

Dawn screams, reaching for her sister, her body slamming into the bars. “No! Marianne don't!” Marianne steps away, just out of reach, Dawn's fingers brushing against the edge of her tunic. The Bog King throws his head back and laughs, a bitter, vicious sound and when his eyes find her again they're cold.

“What could I possibly want with another princess?” He drops the butt of the spear against the floor leaning casually against it, as if to somehow display how much bigger than her he is.

Marianne's heart races, and she cranes her head back to look at him. She wishes she could take the plea back, but at least it's managed to catch his attention. And she finds that she means it. His back is still to her, but his shoulders twitch irritably, head cocked to the side, listening. Marianne latches onto the thread of hope, stumbling forward in her rush to make him understand.

“Dawn is my younger sister, the second in line to the throne. What could you possibly want with her?” she asks. Sweat dampens her palms as dimly she runs through a list of reasons he could want a princess for. “Take me, I'm the Crown Princess of the Light Fields, first born daughter to King Dagda, set to inherit the throne upon his death, if you want a bargaining chip I'm offering you a better one than my sister.”

Dawn is raging against the bars of the cell behind her, but Marianne forges ahead, ignoring her. “Losing her does nothing to the political standing of the kingdom. Losing me...” She trails off, fear constricting her throat. Losing her would devastate her father. Dawn is capable of taking her place, but she's so unprepared to be a ruler Marianne is afraid to think of it.

“She's getting married today,” she says, “to an elf, someone not of royal blood. By law she's abdicating her claim to the throne. She's of no use to you. Taking me will plunge the Fields into a state of chaos if that's what you want. If not...Dawn can tell our father I'm staying willingly.” Her voice softens. “There will be nothing he can do.” Her heart throbs. “Because I won't be a prisoner.” She meets the Bog King's glare head on.

“If you want a way to manipulate our father, to coerce him to do whatever it is you might want, she's the wrong sister.” She takes another step towards him, irritation flaring. “I don't care what your reasons are, just take me!” She has to resist the urge to stomp her foot at him.

The King's fists flex around the staff he carries and Marianne realizes the flash of light she'd seen in the dark comes from a chunk of amber larger than her fist tied at the head of the staff.

Marianne grinds her teeth, forcing her voice to remain neutral. “Please.” Marianne takes a hesitant step forward, so close she could almost touch him. “Just let my sister go.”

“Marianne...” Dawn breathes and Marianne turns to face her, her face stormy.

“No.” She jabs a finger in Dawn's direction as if to punctuation each word. “I am not leaving you here on your wedding day,” she scolds. “You are damn well getting married today Dawn, whether you like it or not.” She whirls on the Bog King, her expression fierce. “Me for my sister. Do we have a deal or don't we?” she demands.

The Bog King glares at her from around the heavy point of one shoulder as if studying her, testing her resolve, something unreadable in his eyes. Marianne lifts her chin, her hands balling into fists at her sides, straightening her spine beneath his gaze, refusing to be cowed. His lips curl around a sneer.

“Done.”

Two goblins materialize as if from the walls at the Bog King's agreement, throwing open the door to Dawn's cell and dragging her out. She and Marianne lunge for each other, Dawn darting around the two massive beasts, managing one brief futile embrace that lasts but a moment before Bog drags Marianne back. The two goblins wrangle Dawn away from her sister, loosening the shackles that bind her wings. Marianne hadn't even noticed them until Dawn's wings burst free. One of the goblins manages to wrap her in it's thick arms, pinning her wings between them, turning and hauling her up the stairs, the other holding the shackles in its fist.

“No!” Marianne screams, “Dawn!” She's half blind with tears, desperate to reach her sister, her promise forgotten in a wave of panic as the goblins haul Dawn, kicking and fighting up the stairs. Marianne screams again, fighting against the bruising grip of the Bog King, trying to wrench her arm free.

“Forget your promise so soon Princess?” he accuses, yanking her around so fast Marianne's head spins, his expression fierce. Marianne's bitter rage surges upwards at the insult, that he could believe her so easily capable of turning back on her word, that her promise could mean so little. She uses the momentum he's given her to pull her fist back, decking him across the mouth with a scream of rage, snapping his head around.

Momentarily startled Bog releases her, reacting solely on instinct and back handing her without thought, knocking her to the floor so hard her ears ring and she tastes blood.

Marianne gapes, half blind with pain, down at the floor, tears falling down her cheeks. She cradles her bleeding face with a wince, the skin split on the hard points of Bog's knuckles. She hiccups, sobbing out of misery over the loss of her sister than pain, feeling more broken than she ever has in her life.

“You didn't even let me say goodbye!” she cries, pushing herself up on one arm from the stone floor, glaring up at the Bog King, her cheek already swollen and red where he's hit her. The fiery rage in her eyes instead of fear surprises him but it vanishes like a spinning spark, twirling off into the night fleeting and forgotten.

“I'll never see her again...” Her words come out thick with tears, head hanging heavily. Marianne's proud shoulders bow under the weight of her own sorrow as she weeps.

Guilt and regret crack the thick wall of ice around Bog's heart at the sound, and is it any wonder they call him a monster? His own shoulders bow and he cradles the staff in front of him like it can protect him from her pain before his heart hardens. He turns, marching up the stairs, shouting orders at one of the goblins.

“Put her in the cell,” he growls, wings snapping irritably, turning to shout over her shoulder. “And shackle her!”

Marianne is numb, all of the fight leaving her and she lets herself be lifted from the floor, every sound seeming to come from far off. If the goblins speak she can't hear them. It sounds and feels like she's under water and she gasps, struggling to draw a breath as the goblins guided her into the cell, a great weight pressing down on her chest. She can't even think to sit down as they release her, she just stands there in the middle of the cell, her wings lank and draping to the floor behind her. She doesn't realize what's happening until the metal clamps down around her wings and she shrieks in surprise, jumping away, but it's too late. The shackles forever bind her wings and her, to the ground and somehow that terrifies her almost as much as losing her sister because at least Dawn is safe, but her? Marianne will never fly again and some part of her shrivels and dies with the realization.

She wants to scream, to rage against her cell, to tear the metal from her body until she can soar upwards through the halls and out the skylight to freedom, but it's all she can do to keep her feet. She's been crippled. The goblin growls lowly before slamming the door of her cell, closing the outer doors, leaving her blind to the hall and the world beyond. When she's sure it's gone she allows her legs to give out, sinking to floor. The sobs wrench their way from her chest so forcefully she physically hurts, the inside of her ribs feelings stripped raw as she mourns the loss of her freedom and her life.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally all I have written for this so far so please don't be a dick and harass me for updates. I'm still trying to figure out if I'm really going to pursue this story. I have a dozen other unfinished fics I owe other fandoms. That being said, this damn AU won't leave me alone, so it will likely continue. I have so many ideas for it.


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